Helpful Portrait
by CeliaEquus
Summary: A visit to an art gallery sparks an unusual friendship, that turns to something more, and leads to an early defeat of Voldemort. What fun! Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own the challenge.


"Helpful Portrait"

Colin gaped at the picture in front of him. He could have _sworn_ that the figure in the painting had just moved. Like a magical portrait.

"Come along, Colin," his mother said, tugging on his elbow. "There are more paintings to see in the gallery."

"Uh… yes, Mum."

He frowned, making a mental note to come back later. It was a peculiar way to start his winter holidays from his fourth year at Hogwarts. His parents would be busy, and this was only one of two days before Christmas Eve that they could spend together.

"How about the movies tomorrow, Col?" his father asked as they walked into the next room. Colin looked back over his shoulder, and ran into the woman in front of him.

"Oh, sorry!" he said. She walked off in a huff, and the Creeveys looked at each other. "The movies sounds fine, Dad."

"Okay then."

Colin looked back once more at the portrait. This time, he _had_ seen her move!

* * *

The next time he visited the gallery was a work day, and few people were around. In fact, he was all alone in the room, which was fortunate. After all, he wasn't allowed to use magic for another couple of years, even with the threat of Voldemort, so he couldn't put a Notice-Me-Not charm around the area.

"I know it's taken a few days, but I'm back," he said. She didn't move. He frowned, and read the information card on the wall beside the portrait. "'M.G.', circa 1946'. Is that you? 'Donated by T.M.R.' Who's that?" She remained silent. "Miss? Uh…" He checked to make sure that the coast was clear, and then spoke in a whisper. "I'm from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry. The headmaster is Albus Dumbledore. I'm in Gryffindor, and my name is Colin Creevey." This time, he saw a hand twitch, and he grinned. "I saw that!"

She sighed. Before he discovered that he was a wizard, Colin would have been shocked; but after three and a half years at a school where the subjects of paintings moved around all the time, the only surprise he felt was that this painting was in a Muggle gallery.

"My name is Merope Gaunt," she said. "Colin, is it?" He nodded. "Pleased to meet you. He put me here so that no one would find me."

"He? Who's that?"

"Tom. My son." She sighed again. "He had this portrait commissioned while he was at school, and then put me here after it was finished, where he said no one would find me." She smiled hollowly. "He used to visit, and then he stopped so, _so_ many years ago. Then he came back and explained a few months ago. He had died, but is back now."

"What?" he asked, shocked. "Died? But the only person I can think of is…" He stepped back, as he realised. "You-Know-Who. He's your son?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "I get so lonely. Will you… will you visit me when you can?"

"Of course. My parents are too busy, so I've got plenty of time. Though the gallery people might get suspicious."

"Tell them that you are an art student."

"I can do that," he said, beaming. "But, uh… I'm a Muggleborn."

"…Oh."

"And what if he comes while I'm here?"

"He hasn't been for months," she said, her voice bitter. "And he has changed. He made it clear that there will be no more visits. Too busy to visit his own mother." She sniffed, indignant. "I know that I'm no great beauty, but that shouldn't matter to…"

"I think you're pretty," Colin said, and he blushed, looking down.

"I wasn't in real life," she said. She paused. "But… thank you, Colin."

"You're welcome, Merope. Um, I can call you 'Merope', can't you?"

"Of course."

They both looked up as they heard someone enter the room. Merope froze into position, and Colin whispered goodbye. Then he hurried away, with every intention of returning the next day.

* * *

Almost every day until Christmas Eve, Colin visited the gallery. After his parents returned to work, and before he was due to return to school, he started visiting daily.

He grew fond of Merope, and she always welcomed him eagerly; at least, when Muggles weren't around.

"He still hasn't come, has he?" Colin asked, referring, of course, to Voldemort.

"No," she huffed. "And I do not support his ideals. Not any longer. My son has gone astray without my influence. Gone, dare I say, mad?" She crossed her arms. "Colin, my dear, could you do something for me?"

'My dear'? he thought frantically. He nodding, grinning. "Of course, Merope."

"I hate what Tom has become. He must be stopped." She raised her chin. "I care not how. He should have visited more often." Colin hid his grin behind his hand. "He has created a number of horcruxes. Dumbledore will know what a horcrux is. Please write and tell him. I know where some of them are. He also told me about a prophecy he intends to appropriate, one about that Potter boy."

"Really?" he asked, wide-eyed. "I'll tell the headmaster. I promise. I'll go home and write to him straight away."

She breathed out in relief. "Thank you, Colin. Here is what you must tell him. It's all I know, and it may not be much, but…"

* * *

Voldemort was defeated at the end of the school year, because of the information given to Professor Dumbledore. Many thanks were given to Merope, whose painting was purchased by the headmaster, and moved to Hogwarts. Colin made a point of visiting her every day again.

In secret, he had a painting of his own commissioned. It was of Merope and himself; she in an armchair, and he beside it, a hand on her shoulder. On the last day of school, he took it to her.

"Well… what do you think of it?" he asked, and he bit his lower lip. She looked shocked. "I'm not a painter—only a photographer—so I didn't do it. Dean Thomas painted it, actually. I thought that I could be company, _proper_ company for you."

She looked at him, smiling. If portraits could shed tears, she would have. "I love it."

"Dean said that, after it's up, all you have to do is walk into it, and then we can get rid of this one. You know, if you want to." He shuffled while she thought about his offer, and then nodded.

"It is only a reminder of my son," she said. "Colin, tell Dean that I would be honoured."

* * *

Long after Colin died, having never married, let alone fallen in love (with an actual person, anyway), their portrait still hung in Hogwarts. It was a testament to an unusual, although not unique, relationship between the living and the dead.

And they earned their own chapter in Hogwarts, a History.

**

* * *

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Okay, so this was for the Can you write a romance? challenge in the ffnet forums. (It was Mum's fault that I ended up with this pairing. She picked the prompt numbers.) Quite frankly, this plot made the most sense out of any other ways I could have put Colin and Merope together. Sorry it was short, but I didn't want to draw out something so bizarre.

**Please review, and let me know what you think!**


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